


Making It Better

by w_x_2



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-06 00:55:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6731119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/w_x_2/pseuds/w_x_2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You can slobber over my shoulder all you need,” Dean encourages. “And we'll forget about it in the morning,” Dean promises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making It Better

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, no harm intended, no profit made.  
> A/N: For the 2nd day of [mmom](http://mmom.livejournal.com/) 2016.  
> Follows ep 2x17.

 

Dean flinches when he hears the gun go off. It shouldn't have to be like this. Dean never wanted this for Sam. Well, fair enough, maybe Dean wanted Sam to understand it wasn't fair of him to ask Dean to kill him, but he didn't want Sam to have to go through the experience of killing someone like Madison: good, but with an evil they had no hand in and couldn't control.

 

Dean hears water running and he can see Sam washing the blood off of himself in his mind's eye.

 

They both have sadness written across their faces when their gazes meet again so they swiftly avoid any further eye contact. Neither of them speak on their ride back to motel, the radio is silent and the night is dark.

 

When they get inside the room, they solemnly stick to the silence and darkness by only clicking the door locked and making their separate ways to the foot of their own beds with only the faint light coming from the window to guide their path.

 

“You wanna talk about it?” Dean gently asks, he doesn't want to ask it – both because he wants to keep the silence and because he's pretty sure Sam doesn't want to talk – but he makes himself give his brother the choice.

 

“I just wanna go to sleep, okay?” Sam voices in a quiet but final tone, shedding layers as he walks to his bed.

 

Sam's hurting and fuck if Dean knows how to make it better. What he wants to say is 'It'll all be better when you wake up. You'll see. I promise.' but what he ends up saying is, “Yeah, okay,” Dean answers. “Just, you know–” Dean nods to himself, gathering his courage, “You tried your best to help Madison.”

 

“I still failed,” Sam whispers in response.

 

“We can't save everyone.”

 

“I don't want you to make things better right now,” Sam protests in a broken voice as he gets in bed.

 

“You wanna cry yourself to sleep?” Dean asks in the softest of tones, he's not teasing, he's just asking so he knows what to do with himself.

 

“Yes, I do,” he responds. And then asks, “Is that ok with you?” like he's asking for permission.

 

“You know–” Dean starts but gets cut off.

 

“I don't want you to _try_ to make it better right now,” Sam objects.

 

“Sorry,” Dean sighs. It takes Dean a long time of staring at Sam's lump on the bed before he gets a move on with shedding his own clothes. It's only when he's by the side of his own bed, pushing the cover aside that he stops and says, “Want me to–” he begins to ask in a soft, almost unheard tone but stops himself and instead approaches Sam's bed.

 

Sam feels a chill as the covers are lifted before the bed dips, followed by Dean laying right next to him, one arm over his back in a warm cocoon as the covers settle over them.

 

“What are you doing?” Sam asks with a sniff at the end.

 

“ _Actually_ making it better,” Dean responds.

 

Sam scoffs.

 

“You can slobber over my shoulder all you need,” Dean encourages. “And we'll forget about it in the morning,” Dean promises. There's no response from Sam so Dean says, “One night, that's it,” he warns. “You better make it count.”

 

It takes him a few moments but then Sam turns towards Dean, eyes avoiding Dean's and then plants his head on Dean's shoulder where the tears that had been gathering in his eyes promptly fall onto Dean's naked shoulder.

 

* * *

 

 

When morning comes around, it's Dean who wakes up first, and goodness fuck, he's being humped. He squints his eyes open, sees Sam and recalls last night. At least they can forget about _that_ in light of _this_.

 

“Sam,” Dean calls.

 

The movements stop abruptly and Sam lifts his head.

 

“Dean?” Sam blearily asks. “Wha' you doin' in my bed?” he slurs, still half asleep.

 

Or maybe they actually can't forget about it. Dean waits a couple of seconds for Sam to wake up so he can try and remember on his own. Thankfully he does.

 

“Last night-” Sam starts to say.

 

“Already forgotten,” Dean interrupts. “Just as long as you go take care of that _away_ from me,” Dean adds as he looks downwards towards Sam's crotch which is pinning down Dean's leg.

 

Sam blushes. “S-sorry,” Sam stutters through his apology as he scoots back.

 

“Yeah, got it,” Dean replies. “Get a move on with getting off of me,” Dean urges.

 

“Yeah,” Sam mumbles as a response and gets up. Dean waits for Sam to close the door behind himself after he enters the toilet and then for the sound of the shower running. He waits a little bit longer, just in case, and then finally, after making sure he's well under the covers, he slides a hand down to his stomach and under his boxers. He's got his own hard on to take care of and there's no better remedy to kick start the morning after the night they'd previously had than an orgasm.


End file.
